


One Moment

by LuxLouise



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, F/M, Pregnancy, Shell Cottage, after war, first time smut, mental health
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:34:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25789657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuxLouise/pseuds/LuxLouise
Summary: It was one moment, one moment of weakness, of passion, of love. One moment together that changed everything.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Dean Thomas
Comments: 22
Kudos: 93





	One Moment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TriDogMom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriDogMom/gifts).



> This story wouldn’t have been possible with out my soul sister, my wife, the best person I know, TriDogMom suggesting the pairing and trope! I needed something to kick my butt back into gear! Thanks for beta-ing for me, you’re amazing!
> 
> Dean/Hermione is such an underrated pairing & I hope you enjoy!

Listening as the waves crashed against the cliffs surrounding the beach where Bill and Fleurs cottage was the calmest Hermione's mind had been in weeks, months really. She still couldn’t fully comprehend the toll being on the run had taken on her, not only physically, but emotionally and mentally as well. The torture she had received at the hands of Bellatrix LeStrange was just the final straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back. Hermione didn’t think she would ever be able to get the sound of Bellatrix’s cackles out of her mind. Every moment her mind wasn’t occupied with making plans for the remaining Horcruxes, she would immediately be transported back to the floor of the Malfoy’s ballroom; the white vaulted ceilings, the crystal chandelier that hung over her, feeling the grain of the hardwood floor as her nails scratched when Bellatrix’s knife began carving that horrid word into her arm.

_ Mudblood. _

She had been thirteen the first time she had been called the slur. If everyone around her didn't react the way they had when Malfoy spat out the insult, Hermione wouldn’t have even known that she should be upset. Learning what it meant hadn’t bothered her really. She had grown up in the Muggle world and been called a myriad of hurtful nicknames by her peers at primary school. Insults, especially ones by pompous little gel-haired pricks, didn’t bother her anymore. However, the rest of her time at Hogwarts seemed to be clouded by that one little word. She heard it muttered under students breath when she wouldn’t give up the good study tables in the library, when she hexed Cormac McLaggen after Slughorn's party when the handsy prat tried to force her into a broom closet down the hall from the party, whenever Pansy Parkinson would walk by her, Hermione had grown numb to the word; or so she thought. 

Nothing Fleur tried healed the crude carving in Hermione's arm. It had been a week and blood still trickled out slightly if not wrapped tightly. Bill had deduced that a cursed blade must have been used and was attempting to contact some of his colleagues at Gringotts to see if anyone could help in the healing process. Harry, and most especially Ron, had become overbearing in the days that followed their escape at Malfoy Manor. Luna had done all she could to help distract them both and let Hermione escape to the beach. The blanket she had grabbed quickly on her way out the door was laid out, her bare toes dug deep in the cold sand, Hermione let the tears fall freely down her face as the cold wind coming off the waves whipped her hair around her face, not caring about the knotted mess it would be when she went inside. A throat clearing quietly behind her made her still briefly and pulled her wand from the holster around her wrist.

Dean Thomas was standing to her left behind her, his hands held up in surrender as he took in her defensive posture as she turned to look at him. Relaxing slightly, Hermione stowed her wand back and turned back toward the water. 

“If Harry and Ron are coming, I’d prefer to know so I can escape. They mean well, I know but it’s a bit much.”

He let out a scratchy laugh. “No, they were talking with Bill. They’ve not let you out of their sight, have they?” Dean’s voice was rough, as though he hadn’t used it in months. “I can go if you want to be alone.”

“No, it’s fine.” Hermione moved over slightly so Dean could sit on the blanket. 

As he sat down, she looked him over out of the corner of her eye. It wasn’t that she had never paid much attention to  _ him _ , she hadn’t paid much attention to  _ any _ boys at Hogwarts besides Ron. Dean looked just as, if not more so, starved than even herself, Harry, and Ron did. She didn’t know the details about what he had been through these past few months but it didn’t look as though they had been any kinder to Dean Thomas than they had been to her and the boys. The borrowed clothes from Bill hung loose on Dean’s frame, a belt was pulled tightly around his waist, holding up the borrowed denims. Hermione could see bruises around his wrists and forearms, most likely from being bound so tightly by the snatchers. She blushed when Dean glanced over at her and caught her looking him over and turned her attention back to the waves.

“Have you been on the run this entire time?” she asked him. “I remember you saying you weren’t sure if your dad was magic.”

“He died before I was born, my mum never knew about magic until McGonagall showed up so there’s no way of knowing if he was or not. I got my mum, step-dad, and sisters out of the country, they’re in France with some relatives. Seemed the safest option.”

A burning in Hermione’s throat became unbearable as she tried to stave off the tears that were welling up in the corners of her eyes.

“I obliviated my parents,” she said with no emotion in her voice, staring straight ahead at the ocean. She felt him turn towards her. “I erased myself from their memories and planted the idea of Australia in their heads.”

“Can you reverse it after the war’s over?” Dean rasped out.

“No. No one knows that bit, except you. Everyone thinks I’ll try to reverse it if I live through this but I knew going into it that I wouldn’t be able too.” Hermione’s voice was steady even as she felt the first of the tears fall onto her cheek. 

“Harry would feel even more guilty than he already does, which is a load of bullshite if you ask me. They’re safe and happy. If I make it through, I’ll go check on them, make sure they have everything they need. I’d rather them be safe, alive, and not know who I am than to die because of who their daughter is.”

The large, warm hand that grabbed her own was slightly rough, the calloused palm against her soft one felt like electricity. Her breath caught as Dean’s thumb began rubbing soothing circles on the back of her hand. When she looked over at him, he was staring out at the waves, a thoughtful look on his face.

“I always knew you were brilliant, Hermione. I admired that about you in school, nothing ever seemed to get to you after first year when Ron called you a nightmare. You always seemed so strong. I know you were called awful names, I heard them myself and worse.” He never looked at her, keeping his gaze locked on the ocean.

“You’re beautiful, you know.” 

A scoff escaped her lips before she could stop it.

“I’ve thought you were beautiful since first year. I can’t… I know the chances of me living through this are slim so I had to take this opportunity and tell you.”

He fell silent, still not looking at her while she stared at him, open-mouthed. Clearing her throat, she turned back to look out at the waves that were still crashing against the cliffs. Hermione couldn’t honestly say she had a secret thing for Dean Thomas but she would be lying if she said she hadn’t noticed how fit he was. To know that he felt the same about her, well, she wasn’t used to boys being so forward with their thoughts and emotions. Ron hadn’t shown any sort of interest in her until someone else did and then that went away just as quickly. The moment he abandoned her and Harry, any lingering feelings she may have had for the volatile redhead had disappeared with him. Yes, he came back but the damage was done. 

Dean glanced over at her and as they made eye contact, he began to lean toward her. Just before their lips touched a voice behind them called out ‘ _ Hermione!’ _

With a sigh, Dean pulled away from her, squeezed her hand before standing, leaving her hand hanging slightly in the air, suddenly cold without the warmth he brought, the electricity that had seemed to course through their hands when they had touched was gone. She watched as he shook the sand off the back of his trousers and headed back towards the cottage as Ron and Harry made their way to her.

“Sorry we left you alone, ‘Mione. We had to talk to Bill. They want to move Ollivander and Griphook to Muriel’s but we need to talk to them both before they do. Are you feeling up to coming with us?” Harry asked her gently. 

Hermione bit back the snappy retort that was on the tip of her tongue. She knew they meant well but she wasn’t a child or an invalid. “I don’t need babysitters. I need some space. I’m fine, let's go.” 

“What were you and Dean talking about?” Ron asked her, a slight sneer on his face that was gone just as quickly as it flashed across his face.

“Nothing really, just talking about what he’s been doing the past few months.” 

He scoffed. “Sitting awful close to just be talking.”

Hermione looked up just in time to see Harry shoot Ron a warning look. Coming to stop, putting her hands on her hips in a way that so very reminiscent of their early years of Hogwarts.

“Who I spend my time with and what I may be doing with them is not now, nor has it ever been,  _ any _ of your business, Ronald Weasley.” Her foot stomped.“You are not my boyfriend or my father. Mind your own business.” Nose in the air and a sneer that would put Malfoy to shame, Hermione stalked off to the cottage, choking down her laughter when she heard Harry berating Ron behind her quietly.

* * *

At dinner that evening, Hermione sat next to Dean as they all squeezed around Bill and Fleur’s kitchen table. The feel of his thigh pressed tightly against hers made it hard to concentrate on the conversation around her. Her, Harry, and Ron had had conversations with Ollivander and Griphook that afternoon, with the goblin agreeing to help them. Hermione knew that the next few weeks would be nerve-wracking but all she could think about was how it felt to be so close to Dean. She vaguely heard that Bill would be taking Ollivander to his Aunt Murial’s that evening after dinner. Harry and Ron assured Fleur they were fine bunking in the sitting room with Dean for a bit longer. As dinner wound down, Bill helped the elderly wand-maker down the stairs, pausing for him to say his goodbye’s to Luna and accept a wrapped package from Fleur to return to Murial. She caught Dean looking at her from across the room where he was standing in front of the fireplace that glowed with bluebell flames. Luna appeared at her side, squeezing Hermione's hand.

“Go, I’ll distract them,” the blonde whispered before flitting across the room, pulling Ron’s attention to her. 

Hermione glanced at Dean again briefly before making her way to the front door of the cottage that Bill had just left through. She walked quickly up the sandy path that led to the top of the cliff, overlooking the ocean. Wrapping her arms around herself, Hermione breathed in the salty air. She felt Dean walk up behind her, standing just close enough that she could feel the heat coming off his body. She turned to face him, looking up into his dark brown eyes. His face had a look of intense concentration as he stared down at her. His hand came up, cupping her cheek gently. She took one small step towards him, pressing herself against him, the top of her head coming to Dean’s chest.

As his head dipped down and their lips met. The sound of the ocean, the howling of the wind, all fell away, only the pounding of her heart in her ears remained. She reached up, wrapping her arms around Dean’s neck as the hand that had been cupping her cheek slid into her hair, the other wrapping around her waist, pulling her tightly against him. She had been kissed before, but not like this. His lips parted slightly, his tongue running against the seam of hers, begging entrance that she immediately granted. He tasted of spearmint toothpaste and she thought back to Slughorn's class when she had smelled this very smell in her Amortentia.

Just as she began to lose herself in the kiss, Dean pulled back, kissing her lips gently once, twice, three times, before resting his forehead against hers, bringing both hands up to hold her face.

“I’ve wanted to do that for years, you know,” Dean told her, a small laugh escaping his lips.

“That was… there aren’t any words,” she breathed out.

“We should probably head back before anyone notices we’re gone,” Dean said, his voice sounding as though that was the last thing he wanted to do. “I know you lot have something going on you can’t tell me about but… just promise me you’ll be safe. Try to be anyway. Maybe if I make it through this I could take you on a date?”

Hermione smiled up at him. “I’d like that.”

* * *

The next few weeks didn’t allow for any time for her and Dean to have time alone together. She was busy all the time working out the details of the break-in at Gringotts with Harry, Ron, and Griphook. Dean sat next to her every evening at dinner, would squeeze her hand whenever he would walk near her, even pulled her into the kitchen when Lupin came by, informing them all of the birth of little Teddy Lupin, and kissed her senseless up against the counter before Fleur walked in, looking for champagne. Short goodnight kisses on the stairs in the dark, lingering looks over breakfast. She knew their time together was coming to end for the foreseeable future and unable to tell him what they were doing, the tension Hermione was feeling was becoming more evident.

The morning before they were set to break into the wizarding bank, Luna pulled Hermione into their shared bedroom.

“I’m going to sleep elsewhere tonight,” Luna said, a dreamy look on her face.

Hermione's eyes widened briefly. “Why– where are you sleeping?” she asked.

“Not sure yet,” Luna told her with a small shrug as though it was nothing. “You’ll have the room to yourself, you’ll be alone all evening.”

Before she could respond, Luna hugged her and walked back out of the room, leaving Hermione to stand there, a bewildered look on her face. 

That same evening just before dinner, Hermione grabbed Dean’s hand as he was walking into the kitchen.

“After Harry and Ron fall asleep, come to my room.” She left him standing there before he could respond.

All through dinner, she was acutely aware of the looks Dean was throwing her way from where he was sitting next to her. Hermione knew Harry suspected something by the way he was watching them from across the table as he listened to Bill talk. It was none of his business and she knew he wouldn’t ask but it was still unnerving. Dinner passed impossibly slow and then after, it seemed as though everyone wanted to stay up and chat well into the night. Finally, everyone began to slowly head to bed. Hermione sat on the bed wearing a borrowed nightgown Fleur had loaned her, twisting her fingers. The moment the door creaked open, she was on her feet. Dean shut the door quietly behind him then leaned against it.

“You’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t you?” he asked her quietly, staring at her in a way that saw deep in her soul. She nodded.

“We’ll be gone before anyone wakes up.”

He walked towards her, taking her hand and pulling her up against him. Pushing her curls out of her face, he gently grabbed her chin and tilted her face up to his.

“You’ll be careful. We have to make it out of this alive. I can’t stand the thought of you dying.”

He wiped a tear from her cheek before dipping his head down, capturing her lips with his own and walking her backwards until the back of her legs hit the bed. His hands skimmed her thighs and up her sides under the nightgown, pulling it up slowly over her head and tossing it to the side. Hermione watched as he stared at her hungrily while she scooted backwards on the bed. Dean pulled the back of the collar of his shirt over his head and dropped it to the ground before crawling up the bed and peeling her soaking wet knickers down. As he started kissing her neck, she began pushing his joggers down and off. Dean’s head lowered to her breast, pulling a nipple into his mouth as his fingers found her soaking wet cunt, he gently pushed two fingers inside, pumping in and out. She could feel his hardness against her stomach. 

“Are you sure you want this?” Dean asked her, looking her in the eye, his expression kind.

“More than anything.”

Positioning himself at her entrance, Dean leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss to her lips before he slowly pushed inside her. The stretching and burning only lasted a moment before she nodded, letting him know he could move. He filled her completely and as he began thrusting faster inside her, she could feel her orgasm building, the walls of her cunt tightened as he started moving faster and faster. Just after she felt herself come apart, Dean stilled inside, his orgasm spilling into her.

As they laid there in the dark, Dean her pulled close to him, staring down at her. His fingers twisting in her curls.

“Just please, don’t do anything stupid, yeah?”

“I’ll do my best.”

He placed a kiss to her lips.

“I don’t want to, but I should get back downstairs before anyone notices I’m up here.”

Hermione watched as he got dressed and came back over to the bed, pulling on her arm until she sat up.

“I don’t know what to say,” he told her.

She leaned up, kissing him hard. “Then don’t. I’ll see you soon.” 

The moment the door shut behind him, Hermione let the tears she had been holding back fall.

Waking the next morning, she dressed in the black dress she had borrowed from Fleur and grabbed her beaded bag. Walking downstairs, Harry, Ron and Griphook were standing in the kitchen waiting for her. Harry gave her a nervous smile and headed to the front door. Hermione glanced over to the sofa where Dean lay, his eyes on her. He gave her a nod as they made eye contact. Hermione walked out the door, refusing to look back, knowing her resolve would crumble.

* * *

In the aftermath of the final battle, Hermione was so focused on making sure Harry was coping alright and Ron wasn’t drinking himself into a stupor, she had no time to take stock of herself. She attended every funeral, all the trials for Death Eaters that were held, and began to help restore Hogwarts to its former glory. McGonagall was the new Headmistress of Hogwarts and had offered Hermione a chance to finish her education but the thought of returning to the place that saw so much death and destruction held little appeal to her. She arranged to take her NEWTs at the Ministry in December and once the funerals ended, Hermione began studying for them.

It was just after her birthday in September when she finally went to see a healer about the scar on her arm. The elderly witch had run multiple scans not only on the cut itself but for her overall health before leaving the room for a few moments. Sitting on the exam table, Hermione couldn’t help but hope the healer could give her a reason for the exhaustion she had been feeling for the last month or two. She had attributed it to the stress of the war, the funerals. It was a busy time but now that things had started to slow down, she was just as tired as before. 

The healer walked back into the room after a brief knock on the door. She pushed her glasses back up on her nose and levelled a stare at Hermione.

“Now, Miss Granger. I have some answers for you. Unfortunately, the blade that was used was, in fact, cursed. I can’t remove the words but I can put a balm that will heal it. This, however, will have to wait.”

“Why?” 

“Your overall health scan revealed that you are pregnant, Miss Granger.”

* * *

Opening her eyes slowly, Hermione looked around to see that she was laying in a bed at St Mungos, Harry by her side.

“What happened?” she croaked.

Harry scooted forward in the chair he was sitting in next to the bed and grabbed her hand. “You fainted. The healer Floo’d me, apparently I’m your emergency contact. She didn’t tell me what’s wrong though.”

Sighing, she sat up, allowing Harry to adjust the pillows behind her. “I came to have the  _ lovely _ word Bellatrix carved into my arm checked out and have a health scan done. She gave me some results I wasn’t expecting.”

Harry raised his eyebrows when she paused. “And?”

A roll of her eyes, Hermione crossed her arms. “And I’m pregnant.”

You could have heard a pin drop in the silence that followed. Harry stared at her as though he had never seen her before, his mouth slightly open and eyes glazed over. A strangled noise escaped as he leaned forward, opening and closing his mouth.

“I… er… who… when… pregnant?” 

“Yes.”

“You’re pregnant.”

“Yes,” she said, sure that her eyes would fall out from all the rolling she was doing.

“With a baby?”

“No, a Niffler. Yes, a baby, you prat.”

“I just can’t believe you had sex and got pregnant. And everyone says  _ I’m _ the reckless one.”

Her hand shot out, slapping the back of his head. “Harry James Potter. I will not be shamed for my sexual proclivities. Am I ready to have a child? Not exactly. Am I going too? Yes. It’s none of your business.” 

Looking properly chastised, Harry leaned back in the chair, kicking his feet up. “I’m not shaming you for having sex, I’m just shocked  _ you _ forgot contraceptives. I think you’ll be a great mum. Merlin knows you’ve been mothering Ron and me for the past seven years.”

She threw him a dirty look. “Someone needed too. You both would have failed out in second year if it wasn’t for me.” Hermione slid off the bed, stretching as she stood.

“When are you going to tell Dean?”

That was one way to ruin a stretch. She hadn’t even thought about what or when to tell Dean. Hermione hadn’t seen him since the night of the final battle in the Room of Requirement. She knew he had survived but hadn’t tried to get in touch with him. The truth was, she was scared. 

Spending the night wrapped in his arms had been amazing. Hermione would be lying if she said she didn’t think about it constantly. At night, lying in her bed at Grimmauld Place, she would relive that night, her hand between her thighs, imagining her fingers were Dean’s. Sending an owl would have been easy but something was holding her back. A small, but loud, voice in the back of her mind kept popping up whenever she would pull out a piece of parchment to write him a letter, telling her he didn’t want to hear from her. That it had been a one-off for him, it hadn’t meant as much to him as it had for her. Dean Thomas had been haunting her dreams at night and never far from her thoughts during the day.

“How… how did you know?” she stammered out.

“Because I’m not  _ as _ big of an idiot as you think I am,” he told her, his tone haughty. At her raised eyebrow Harry huffed. “I may or not may not be in touch with Luna and she  _ might _ have mentioned something.”

“Of course she did,” Hermione growled out. 

Grabbing her beaded bag that she still hadn’t broken the habit of leaving behind, she dug around until she pulled out her old D.A. Galleon. Muttering under her breath while pointing her wand she had grabbed from the bedside table at the gold coin, it glowed a soft blue before fading back to gold. Shoving it in her pocket, she turned to smile at Harry.

“I appreciate you coming to make sure I’m okay. Please don’t tell anyone yet, I’m going to meet him now.”

Harry pulled her into a hug. “I’m here for whatever you need. I love you, don’t forget that. You’re my sister and I’m going to be the best uncle ever.”

Hermione let out a watery chuckle as she pulled back. “Did the healer say if I could leave when I woke up?”

“Yeah, they didn’t admit you or anything.”

“Perfect.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll see you tonight.” With that, she rushed out the door.

* * *

After leaving St Mungos, Hermione apparated to a spot on the cliffs. The smell of the ocean took her back to that night instantly, a pop sounded behind her moments later. The smell of spearmint and sandalwood invaded her senes as she felt more than saw Dean walk up behind her.

“I didn’t think I was ever going to hear from you again, you know.” His deep voice in her ear sent shivers down her spine, straight to her core.

“I tried to write to you a million times, I just… wasn’t sure if it had meant anything to you.”

Dean twisted her around until she was facing him. “I didn’t think you wanted me for more than that one night. I’m an idiot, I should have owled you. I’m so sorry, Hermione.” He tilted her face up to his. “That night, it meant everything to me.  _ You _ mean everything to me. I want to take you on a date, I want to wake up next to you, everything.”

She let the tears that had been building up fall down her cheeks. “Well, I do have something to tell you first.” Hermione looked away from him, turning her back to him and staring out at the waves. 

“I’m pregnant, just found out today.”

He didn’t say anything for long enough for Hermione to begin to get nervous. With her back still to him, she crossed her arms tightly. 

“I don’t expect anything from you. Neither of this asked for this but I am going to keep the baby and you can be as involved as you like.”

Turning her back around to face him, he wrenched her arms apart then cupped her face.

“Well then, I guess we should go on that date soon then, yeah?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
